


Primal

by kronette



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 08:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: He didn’t think of himself as a hands person; not really as any sort of body-part person. A never-look-at-the-eyes person, most definitely. Will didn’t often fixate on any particular feature of someone he was interested in. A sharp mind, an emotional connection, good rapport—that was what he looked for in a lover. So why was he fixated now?





	Primal

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday ficlet for AlixSinclair. For years of friendship, listening to me whining, helping me become a better writer, making sure I didn’t make a complete fool of myself in front of all the actors we’ve met…this is for you, @alixsinclair-emt. :)  
> 

Hands.

He didn’t think of himself as a hands person; not really as any sort of _body-part_ person. A never-look-at-the-eyes person, most definitely. Will didn’t often fixate on any particular feature of someone he was interested in. A sharp mind, an emotional connection, good rapport—that was what he looked for in a lover. 

So why was he fixated now?

Strong. 

Broad. 

Flexible. 

Gentle. 

Calloused.

Artistic.

Deadly. 

_Hands_.

Blood caked into pores, wrinkles, scars. Sticky where it hadn’t completely dried yet. Embedded underneath short nails and around cuticles, in the webbing between the fingers, cracked and flaking in the palms. 

Will heard his name being called but didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, because one of those hands was reaching out toward his face. His breath sped up; his pulse hammered in his throat as he tracked that hand, shuddering out a breath as it cupped his cheek. 

He heard his name again, the tone more curious than worried and dismissed it as unimportant. Will traced his fingers up the dried trails of blood that had run down Hannibal’s arm, until he reached the dark red wrist. Gently holding onto the wrist, Will slowly turned his head into Hannibal’s palm, feeling the scrape of dried blood catch on his scruff and shuddered on another exhale. 

He closed his eyes as he inhaled the sharp scent, lips parting as he brushed the tip of his nose against skin. A quick, darting flick of his tongue added taste to his sensory overload. 

Hannibal tried to mask his moan as a short huff of breath, but Will knew that sound intimately; knew exactly what Hannibal was thinking, preparing, structuring…what he _desired_. 

Holding onto Hannibal’s wrist a bit firmer, Will pressed his nose and mouth into Hannibal’s palm, waiting until Hannibal’s fingers curved of their own accord toward his cheek. Only then did he make a sound—a low, deep moan that reverberated from deep in his belly outwards into Hannibal’s skin, causing Hannibal’s hand to tighten. 

Breathing hard, harder to breathe, Will locked his gaze onto Hannibal’s eyes and was lost to blood and scent and sound and _hunger_ …

Metallic bright blood sparked against his tongue as Hannibal replaced the hand with his mouth, open and thrusting and sharing his kill. Will’s hands went immediately to Hannibal’s shirt, a harsh, needy sound breathed into the kiss as the sticky shirt peeled away from Hannibal’s chest. 

Teeth that had torn flesh and fat from bone now bit gently along Will’s throat. Fingers that had broken bones and dug out organs now grasped eagerly at rolling hips. A body that had beat a man into submission now begged for permission to give pleasure.

To worship.

To devour. 

Will deepened the kiss as he dragged his hand down Hannibal’s chest, chasing the lingering blood with his tongue and fingers. He broke away and took a step back, staring down at his stained fingertips, then up to meet Hannibal’s predatory gaze. 

A primal need to answer a primal need: victory over death. Dominance. Power. Survival. _Reward_.

Mouths met with a clash of teeth and pained groans; their bodies intertwining until no light could be seen between them. 

Only darkness. 

Always darkness.

And Will always answered it.

The End


End file.
